


Will Someone Stuff My Porcelain Dolls? They Aren't Hollow Enough V

by NoSirNotMeNotEver



Series: Will Someone Stuff My Porcelain Dolls? They're Not Hollow Enough [5]
Category: Impulse (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemas, Forced Feminization, Forced Isolation, Like three years, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Oop bit of a time jump, Past Extreme Underage, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Underage - Freeform, Wife Kink, eh, emotional/psychological manipulation, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoSirNotMeNotEver/pseuds/NoSirNotMeNotEver
Summary: Max had done it.He had done it.He had successfully taken Bart away from any and all harm, had hidden him away in their new house all the way in the most rural parts of Alabama, far away from where anyone could find them.
Relationships: Bart Allen/Max Crandall, Bart Allen/Max Mercury
Series: Will Someone Stuff My Porcelain Dolls? They're Not Hollow Enough [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178582
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Will Someone Stuff My Porcelain Dolls? They Aren't Hollow Enough V

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the tags before you read! Hope you enjoy!

Max had done it.

He had done it. 

He had successfully taken Bart away from any and all harm, had hidden him away in their new house all the way in the most rural parts of Alabama, far away from where anyone could find them.

And with this isolation, Max had allowed Bart some freedoms, knowing that Bart would never escape him.

He was too brainwashed at this point, blindly believing that Max was the only thing he needed, could ever need, so Max had loosened his previously-tight reins.

Bart was able to keep his dog, and together, they bought a goat and some chickens, started a garden, planted some apple trees, and dug a well so that they didn't have to ever go into town —and they moved very far away from Manchester, so town wasn't even their town anymore— again.

Well, Bart helped as much as he could.

Sadly, in order to stop Bart from running away —and he would never, but Max wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be able to leave the property, even if Bart would come back— he had had to cut Bart's Achilles Tendons.

Bart could still walk, though it was with a limp and he was in such pain that he rarely did so unless it was to milk their goat or feed their chickens or play with Dox. 

Mostly, Max carried him about, or made him crawl at his feet. 

It was the worst kind of domesticity, and as time went on and Bart matured, Max realized just how close he had been to losing his boy if he had decided that he didn't want to take Bart in all those years ago.

He had never been happier that he had decided that Bart was the one, the one to replace Laura and every other woman in his life.

Bart was now a beautiful boy, legs still, somehow, as muscular and eyes as bright, but now there was a certain sharpness to him, his jawline more defined and his freckles dying away with each passing day. 

He truly was gorgeous, despite only being   
—physically— fifteen. 

It made him hunger for more. 

"Bart!"

Max called from their bathroom, and he waited a few seconds for a reply, though none came.   
It vexed him.

Bart always obeyed him, especially when Max was going to give him an enema, as Bart said that he liked to be clean for him, though Max knew that it was because Max had twisted his brain so that he liked the desperation, liked feeling so obscenely full, liked the slight pain of his guts getting stretched wide by the liquid.

"Bart?"

Max set down the enema nozzle, and he walked into their bedroom, Bart's legs trembling as he tried to walk to the hallway. 

Max immediately picked Bart up, the small boy burying his head into his neck, and Max petted Bart's naked back, the teenager —and god, he had had his beautiful boy for three years, had watched him turn thirteen and then fourteen and then fifteen— quietly whimpering.

He gently set him in the bathtub, planning on bathing him before he gave him his enema, and he smoothed a hand over Bart's cheek, the small boy whimpering uselessly. 

"What's wrong."

It wasn't a question.

"'M sorry, Max."

As time went on, Max encouraged Bart to stop saying the "uncle" in front of his name, and to his surprise, it had taken a while for Bart to break the habit, confused at why Max was forcing him out of the mentality he had been forced to take on.

He wasn't sure why Max had changed, diapers and bottles full of come getting switched for lace panties and even more dresses, but Max knew that Bart didn't mind too much.

As the three years they spent together passed, Max had taken advantage of Bart's blooming maturity and had begun to shift his boy's mindset.

He no longer wanted a child, but rather a wife, as silly as it sounded. 

Because he found himself craving that domesticity, wanted Bart as a lover, albeit, a subservient one, as time went on.

He wanted a doting little wife, one that would obey his every command and besides; it wasn't like it would be hard to redirect Bart's thought pattern.

After all, Max had taught him to be brainless. 

"Sorry? What'd yah do, Bub?"

And that's when the tears started, his boy uselessly blubbering.

"I– I couldn' stop, Max. 'S just felt so good, I dunno why, but 'm not a good wife anymore, 'm sorry."

That, too.

Max had made Bart start referring to himself as a girl, and he absolutely loved it, as it brought him one step closer to making Bart his pretty little wife that was bound to bed, only good for tending to the house and breeding.

Of course, Bart wasn't able to get pregnant, but it was the thought that counted. 

Max had started looking into belly inflation toys and fake pregnancy bellies.

"What'd yah do."

Again, it wasn't a question.

"Y'see, I was takin' a nap with Dox, an'– an' then I woke up, an' I– I was hard. An' I tried not to touch it like a good wife, Max, but 's was so hard, an' it felt so good, an' 'm sorry."

"Hmm."

Max replied as he started to wash Bart's body, moving quickly but efficiently as he soaped down Bart's freckled skin, and he absentmindedly kissed a few, the water shaking with Bart's trembles. 

Before the move three years ago, they would've been fearful trembles.

Now, they were shakes of excitement.

"'M hard again."

"I see."

Max passed the washcloth between Bart's muscular thighs a few times before he gently rubbed it against his boy's hole, making Bart shiver and moan before Max took it away. 

"C'mon, le's get in some new water for yah enema."

"Yah mean I can take another bath? Durin' it?"

"Mmm-hmm. Yah're my wife; hafta make yah happy, Bub."

Bart shuddered at the use of Max's nickname for him, and Max drained the water before he started to fill it up again, not worrying about water expenses because they used clean well water that they cleaned and boiled themselves.

Max gently grabbed the nozzle again as he got Bart to kneel in the water, face pressed into the tile of the bathtub wall, and he gently fitted the nozzle inside of his boy, making sure that it fit perfectly.

Bart was so loose that he no longer required any prep before taking a cock or any other toy.

Hell, it was another reason why Max had to give him enemas; his hole was too ruined after three years of constant abuse. 

"Alright, 's in. Go ahead, lay down on yah back an' act all pretty for meh."

Max purred, and he turned it on, cleaning solution chugging away into Bart's body, and   
Max watched as Bart's eyes widened, the small boy twitching in instinctual panic before he suddenly relaxed, little hands with long fingers gently cradling his belly.

Bart was still so small that his belly would almost always pouch a little, too full with enema in the best way possible, and it didn't help that Bart liked when he watched, smoothing a hand over his belly in a way that just made Max feel hot under his collar. 

It made him think of pregnancy, Bart's hands trembling with desperation as the enema continued to fill him up, his body begging him for release and the nozzle holding it back.

"Yah actin' like yah pregnant, huh, Bub? Like a real good wife?"

"Yessir, Max. I– yah like it?"

"Mmmhmm."

Max checked the timer, and he sighed, petting Bart's hair.

"Yah gonna leave it in past the timer?"

"I think so."

"Alright. Yah be good an' tell me when yah're done, alright?"

"M'kay, Max."

Max stood, and he turned off the timer, knowing that Bart would most likely add another dosage.

The solution they used was harmless, hell, it probably was better than having Bart's body cycle everything out, and he left the room, keeping the door wide open in case Bart needed him. 

"Max?"

Max stopped at the door, and he looked back, Bart's cheeks red as he clutched his swollen belly. 

He looked so delicious like that, so perfect. 

"Yah...yah think that one day...we can get married for real? I know that people in this time don' like seein' men gettin' married, an'–"

"Who said yah were gettin' married as a man? Why do yah think I bought yah those dresses, Bub? Why do yah think I'm lettin' yah grow yah hair long?"

Max answered, and he watched as Bart flushed, his cock draped against his little belly. 

Good.

Max loved being reminded of just how much Bart had grown in his care.

From a snot-nosed brat to the gorgeous boy in his tub, Max had truly groomed his boy into a beautiful flower. 

He finally left the room after another moment, and he laid down on their bed, but not before he set out an Impulse red set of lingerie. 

He loved his boy in red, as it made him nostalgic, and loved tearing it off of Bart even more.

Max heard Bart call for him, needing his help back to the bedroom, and he made his way over, his brows instinctively furrowing when he saw that the tub was drained and Bart's belly was flat, the hose neatly put back in its place.

"Thattaboy. C'mon, to bed."

"Alright, Max."

Max hoisted Bart up, and he carried his boy to bed, Bart's legs uselessly draped over his arms as the boy nuzzled into his chest. 

"Mmm; Max, 'm hard a-gain."

"Good; like yah that way."

Max settled Bart into the bed, and he kissed up Bart's leg, hot breath ghosting over his kisses and making Bart whine. 

From there, all he had to do was sheath himself into his boy, and Max quietly groaned, his nose buried into Bart's shoulder as he gently rocked his hips forward, Bart moaning loudly as he wrapped his arms and legs tighter around him, clutching him against him.

"Puh-lease, Max! Fast-ah! Don' go slow,   
puh-lease!"

Max sped up his hips, rocketing forward as he huffed softly. 

"Grife! C'mon, Max, puh-lease!"

A gangly hand pressed him deeper into a heavily-bruised neck, and he felt Bart's shoulders shake with little sobs, the small boy whimpering.

It made Max's eyes widen; terrified if he had hurt Bart.

"Bart, are you–"

Quiet, for once.

Peaceful, beautiful silence. 

Bart dropped the knife, and he held Max's corpse to him, heaving for air as he sobbed, clutching the man to him from where he was still inside of him. 

He heard the clatter of the knife, but he didn't register it, trembling as he wept.

Peaceful, beautiful silence.

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, this series is almost at its end, but don't worry, the last and final part will be completely written in Bart's POV :)


End file.
